Home, Bitter Home
by moonswirl
Summary: Gleekathon, day one hundred and nineteen: He's been waiting years to tell him what his leaving did to him.


_Started my daily ficlets to make the hiatus pass, then decided to keep going with a second cycle, and then a third, fourth, and fifty cycle. Now here's cycle 6!_

_A/N: This story is brought to you by my (and others', evidently ;)) belief that James Marsters would be a prime candidate to play Papa!Puckerman..._

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**"Home, Bitter Home"  
Puck + Little Sister & Father  
Sequel to "Brown: Depth & Stability"  
Sequel-ish to "Teddy Bear with a Mohawk"**

The first few times he thought he saw him… It couldn't be real. It wasn't the first he'd imagined it, but he hadn't done it in years. Why his mind would start messing with him again now, he had no idea.

But then one day, he'd seen him, and he saw it wasn't just in his head. He'd gone to pick up his sister from school, and she'd pointed him out… he'd waved back.

"Sarah, do you know him?" he asked her, keeping hold of her hand as he led her the other way.

"He waves at me… I don't talk to him," she promised, knowing not to talk to strangers. "Who is he?"

"No one important. Just ignore him."

"Why?" she frowned.

"Just ignore him," he repeated.

The subject was dropped, and they were able to return to more common brother/sister topics, such as the all-important homework, the tales of classroom gossip… She always had something to say about someone, a trait she had received fully from their mother. She was never really mean-spirited about it though… that he made sure of.

When they arrived home, he saw her through her snack, then sat with her while she did her homework. It was a routine they had followed for years now. His sister would do well in life, he'd see to it. If their father wasn't there to do it, then he would do it. And even if he showed up…

When the doorbell rang, he saw his sister's head shoot up. "Sarah, stay here," he tapped her notebook before getting up. Before heading into the hall, he looked back to make sure she was back to work. Seeing her pencil was moving along, he moved to the front door.

He knew it'd be him… didn't even need to check. He'd thought about this moment ever since he'd left. He wondered what he'd tell him… wondered what his excuses to his son would be. But with everything that had been happening, with Quinn and the baby… oh, the things he had to say…

He opened the door, stepped outside and closed the door behind him before he had the chance to put one word in. Puck kept a firm face as he looked so much like him. In so many ways he'd tried not to be like him, but no matter what he did, it was still there, looking back at him.

"Noah…" his father breathed out in amazement, looking at him up close for the first time in so many years. He didn't reply. "I've been trying to come to you since I got in town again, I… Look, Noah…"

"Puck," he finally spoke up.

"Sorry?" his father frowned, confused.

"It's Puck. You're Noah," he declared. His father nodded slowly. "What do you want," he spoke after a moment. Faced with his hardened son, the senior Puckerman looked at a loss for words.

"I know you probably don't want to see me, and you hate my guts, and all those things you're well in your right to feel. But I'm still your father, and…"

"You stopped being my father the moment you left."

"Well what about Sarah? She needs a father," he nodded.

"She's got me. We've been getting along fine without you."

"You're just a kid, what do you…"

"You try being a 'kid' with a mother left like you left her, and a little sister who's got no one else but you to look out for her. You made me their protector when you left us, and keeping you away is about the best way I can do that."

"N… Puck…" his father tried. "We can change that," he tried to promise. "I… I've changed." He almost laughed.

"Really… Well tell me this then: Why'd you leave? I've been waiting years to hear that one."

"Okay," he nodded. "You remember Ben Walker? Uncle Benny? Well he got me this gig…" Now he laughed.

"That's what it was… that's what was worth more to you than your family?"

"It wasn't that…" he started, but Puck wouldn't hear him.

"No. You left for nearly ten years, no reasons, no goodbyes. You chose your fame and fortune over us, don't even try to give me some excuse that it wasn't that." He didn't try. "It didn't even work, did it?" Again, no reply. "Yeah, that's what I thought," he nodded. "So of the two of us, who's the father and who's 'the kid'?" His father wouldn't look at him. "Funny you'd be the first one to believe me on that." That made him look back, unsure what he meant. "Oh, yeah, by the way," he nodded. "In a couple months' time, you're going to be a grandfather… biologically, anyway."

"What?" he finally spoke, blinking. "You…"

"I don't even know why I'm telling you because I sure as hell wouldn't ever let you near my kid." He left out the part where even he couldn't get near her at the moment… this was plenty information for him to have.

"Look, Puck, I… I know I have no leg to stand on with you, but… Sarah, I… you wouldn't even have to tell her who I am, I just… I'd like to see her, talk to her, even if it's just for a little bit. Don't think of it as a favour, I… I'll do whatever you want me to."

"You can leave. That's what I want you to do," he spoke simply.

"Noah…" He did not need to hear that.

"No, you don't get to make requests. You know what, you left and I never got to know why, never got to say goodbye. Well now I'm going to. And you, you'll get to know how that felt. Goodbye," he started to turn away.

"I wrote her a letter." He stopped. "I tried to mail it, more times than I can count, I wasn't going to let another birthday go by without getting it to her," he pulled out an old envelope from his jacket pocket. "She might be too young to understand all of it. But you could hang on to it, give it to her when she's older. That way she'll get it for sure. She won't have to wait on me getting the guts to drop it in a mailbox." He held it out to Puck. "Please?" After a moment of staring, he took the envelope. His father breathed out. "I, uh… I brought something, for you," he moved to the steps, picking up a guitar case. "Maybe you'll smash it to bits, it's up to you. But I remember how much you loved it, so I want you to have it." He put it down at his son's feet. "Well… just in case… goodbye," he bowed his head before turning and heading off.

Puck watched him go for a moment before picking up the guitar case and going back inside.

"Who was it?" his sister called out from the kitchen.

"Continue your homework, Sarah," he called back, climbing up to his room.

He put the case and the envelope on his bed, pacing about with hesitation for a few seconds. He sat on his bed, pulling the case around, resting his hand on it. His heart pounded, thinking about what was inside… his father was right. He did dream about playing it, even touching it… but it was always on the wall, out of reach.

He flipped the clasps, pulled the case open, and there it was… the guitar. He reached to touch it…

He closed the case. He opened it again, put the letter to Sarah inside and closed it again. He snapped the clasps shut again and brought the case to push it in the back of his closet shelf.

Maybe one day he'd be okay with touching it, playing it… not now. He wasn't ready, and he didn't want to let his father 'win.'

Someday, he'd pull it out, and he'd give them both to Sarah… the letter and the guitar.

THE END


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